


Trying Not to Love You

by doctor_hemlock



Series: Darksiders [3]
Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Death is only mentioned, F/M, Kissing, Nickelback, Romance, Songfic, Strife doesn't really TRY, Trying Not to Love You
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 22:36:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16983084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor_hemlock/pseuds/doctor_hemlock
Summary: Strife couldn't give a shit about how anyone saw him, about anyone else's feelings. But combine a warm human and a touch-starved Nephilim?Maybe he could give a shit, then.





	Trying Not to Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Don't knock it because it's a Nickelback song. I love this Horseman, I haven't played III yet, so I have yet to truly get a peek of his personality. This is mainly based on the fandom's characterization of him. Excuse the brief Mulan reference, also.

_You call to me, and I fall at your feet_  
_How could anyone ask for more?_  
_And our time apart, like knives in my heart_  
_How could anyone ask for more?_

                “Strife?”

                The (S/C) human whispered, distress thick in her trembling voice. Hefty shoulders slumped, tension ebbing from his large, lithe body. Suddenly he was conflicted, contrite twisting in the center of his broad chest. He’d never intended to scare her, never wanted her to see him like this. For the most part, he’d been able to keep his self-loathing under wraps, buried beneath thick layers of sarcasm and wit.

                Exhaling deeply, the Horseman turned to where she stood, slowly removing his fists from the trunk of the tree he’d managed to bury them in. (Y/N) shook like a leaf, tucking the worn sleeves of her jumper into her elbows as she crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly closing herself off from him. Delicate tears bubbled and pooled at the corners of her large (E/C) eyes. Dark lashes flitted them away, dripping down her round cheeks quickly, and she hurriedly wiped them before returning to her previous position.

                “Why?” She murmured, locking her intense gaze on his sculpted face, and he suddenly felt vulnerable. His helm had been launched into a tree that matched his own, embedded into the deep heliotrope wood. Strife exhaled loudly, realizing that she’d be upset with him whether he told the truth or not.

                The truth, however, was more complicated than what he’d anticipated…

_But if there's a pill to help me forget,_  
_God knows I haven't found it yet_  
_But I'm dying to, God I'm trying to_

                A loud cry followed by the _bang_ of a gun rang through the growling and gnashing of the green minions. Strife perked up immediately, leaping through the hoard of demons at miraculous speed to his charge’s defense. Backed into a corner, one of the foul beasts had plucked her own weapon from her hand after her attempt, chomping on her pistol as if it were candy. Landing roughly in front of her, he aimed his own weapons at the first few predators, clearing through the entirety of the group in no time.

                Spinning them around his fingers, he quickly tucked them into their holsters, turning back to his human. He wanted to be angry, wanted to scream at her for being careless in the moment. The look on her face immediately extinguished the fire inside of him, and he dropped to his knee before her. Cautiously he slid his hands, large enough to almost completely cover her torso, to her shoulders. Terror in her (dark/light) eyes, eyes that stared past the openings in his helmet.

                “Bright eyes, hey… Kiddo? Peanut? It’s okay, you’re okay…” Instantly he pulled her into his chest, and her arms snaked around his neck immediately.

                This was the furthest he’d gone with her, as he’d been afraid to even touch her until now. Before then, their fingers had barely brushed when training, and even then, found himself craving more…

                Now that she was in his arms, shivering against his body, he knew he wouldn’t be the same.

_'Cause trying not to love you, only goes so far_  
_Trying not to need you, is tearing me apart_  
_Can't see the silver lining, from down here on the floor_  
_And I just keep on trying, but I don't know what for_  
_'Cause trying not to love you_  
_Only makes me love you more_  
_Only makes me love you more_

                Burning brightly before his golden gaze, the fire crackled loudly as it warmed the pair. His gray, bug-like helm was tucked beneath his legs, his gloved fingers working at cleaning his guns. Next to him, a good foot and a half away, she laid against a moss-covered rock, scribbling away in a pink journal with blue and yellow flower-shaped stickers slapped across it. Stringy, dirty (H/C) hair was tied at the top of her head, bouncing slightly as she moved down the page. Strife couldn’t help the smile that had found its way onto his face at her little quirks, little habits he’d noticed.

                Leaning up, she rose her hands above her head, lifting her book over her head as she elongated her spine. Various _pops_ and _cracks_ echoed and mimicked the fire, and she whined lightly. Quirking a thick brow at her, he shook his head with the faintest of chuckles rumbling in his broad chest. (Y/N) turned to her worn rucksack, stuffing it inside haphazardly. Looking up at her Horseman, she smiled subtly. “Goodnight, Strife. Thank you.”

                It was a ritual with her, occasionally, she’d thank him and they both knew why. For keeping her safe. For taking her in when others would have left her to die. For companionship. For his mere presence, for not leaving her alone. Somewhere Strife knew she understood he felt the same, that he was actually grateful for her.

                Thankful for her choosing to stay with him, for listening to his stories and jokes—

Strife whistled lowly at these thoughts, putting Mercy and Redemption away. Leaning back slightly on the small boulder he’d perched on, he crossed his arms. He cut his eyes in her direction, knowing he hadn’t been nor ever will be averse to his feelings that were rapidly developing for her. Something he _was_ averse to, however, was his disgust with himself…

_And this kind of pain, only time takes away_  
_That's why it's harder to let you go_  
_And nothing I can do, without thinking of you_  
_That's why it's harder to let you go_  
_But if there's a pill to help me forget,_  
_God knows I haven't found it yet_  
_But I'm dying to, God I'm trying to_

                Riding was one of the things that never failed to make her feel better. On the worst days, after she’d lie awake all night due to the vivid recollections of _that_ _day_ burning themselves into the backs of her eyelids. Forcing her to relive the absolute worst day of her human life, leaving her lids heavy, her voice hoarse, and her body weak. He hated feeling helpless when he had mentally tasked himself with caring for her wellbeing.

                Against his chest, her head bobbed back and forth lazily as he urged his steed onward. Strife further tucked his large hand around her torso, holding her in place as she struggled to stay awake. As his mount slowed to a trot, he found himself almost unwilling to release her. Selfish as it may be, the feeling of her tiny hand curled against his gave him hope. A sliver of light shot through the murk he typically dwelled in, a pleasant change from being steeped in pessimism.

                “C’mon, kiddo, we’re here.”

                The Nephilim brushed slid his digits across the back of her neck, slowly intertwining them in the loose (H/C) waves at the back of her neck. Startled out of her mind, she leapt forward, almost falling from the horse in shock. Wrapping the whole of his arm around her, he chuckled as he suspended her from certain injury. Her breaths came in heavy bursts, and he hushed her gently in an effort to calm her.

                “Shhh, (Y/N), you’re okay, kid. I’m here, kid, I’m here…”

_It's trying not to love you, only goes so far_  
_Trying not to need you, is tearing me apart_  
_Can't see the silver lining, from down here on the floor_  
_And I just keep on trying, but I don't know what for_  
_'Cause trying not to love you_  
_Only makes me love you more_

                (Y/N) groaned in pain, attempting to pop her lower back by pressing her palms into it and trying to lean backwards. Walking next to the Horseman, she would let her hands fall to her sides momentarily before returning to her ache. Strife had noticed the way she walked as soon as she had woken up that morning but chose to withhold any comment for the time being.

                “I guess sleeping on the ground will do that to you, eh?” A bitter laugh followed, and Strife reached into his own pouch. He retrieved the large bottle, gleaming and almost glowing with magical properties. “Here, peanut.”

                (Y/N) looked as if she had been slapped, her face shocked and flushed. Instead of being offended by her reaction to his offer, he leaned down, uncapping the bottle. Realization struck her as he maneuvered to her level, deepening her blush as she turned from him, removing her jumper hesitantly. Some of the potion was dumped into his hand, warming and cooling simultaneously, and he pressed it into the bare skin of her back.

                She jumped as soon as his fingers had grazed her skin, and a pained groan came through gritted teeth, lowly hissing until the pain seemed to subside. Strife understood her embarrassment, but was almost too eager to have her flesh beneath his touch. Soothing her pain, being able to ease at least one of her many, many burdens brought him a sense of satisfaction he hadn’t known he could feel until he’d met her.

                Pulling back from her, she remained still until the liquid dried and finally tugged her hefty sweatshirt over her shoulders. Raking her fingers through her tousled hair, she wrapped and tied it back up messily. The human turned back and looked at him, smiling gratefully. Crimson was fading into salmon as she stood, pulling her arms behind her back.

                “Thank you, Strife.”

                The Horseman chuckled lowly at the sheepish expression on her face.

                “Anything for you, bright eyes.”

                As she turned back to camp to pack her few items she carried, he laid a hand on Redemption. Suddenly that warm craving for more of her turned cold, forcing the reality of their situation in his face. A human, _the only human left_ , it seemed, that was every bit as weak as expected, with a Nephilim? This human, who was surprisingly compassionate and intelligent, couldn’t have been feeling _anything_ like he had been. Even in her lingering glances she thought were subtle, in the way she sought comfort in his voice and proximity, the little monster known as doubt refused to allow Strife even a shred of confidence in his situation. She was too _pure_ , too _good_ for an old Horseman like him. A murderer, contracted killer with a divine debt to the Charred Council, committing unspeakable acts in the name of _balance_. If he ever actually had a shot with her, his own insecurities and self-image would shoot it down in no time.

                A hand tugged him from his depressing reverie, bringing him back to the surface. Below him (Y/N) stood, holding his hand and watching him expectantly. Looking from their hands to her face quickly, he addressed her.

                “Yes?”

                “Aren’t we going now?”

                He laughed again, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “Of course, don’t get your unders in a twist…”

_So I sit here divided, just talking to myself_  
_Was it something that I did?_  
_Was there somebody else?_  
_When a voice from behind me, that was fighting back tears_  
_Sat right down beside me, and whispered right in my ear_  
_Tonight I'm dying to tell you_

                Humanity’s resurrection was a glorious feat, one Strife couldn’t help but nod out of sheer respect and awe for his brother’s actions. (Y/N) had been so overjoyed, so relieved that she cried in his arms, pressing her face to his helm with the biggest, most genuine smile he’d ever seen on her round face. The gesture hurt her face, easily topped every beautiful sight he’d ever seen, and reassured him of his heart’s location in his chest. He’d been so happy for her, knowing that she would be okay at last. That she’d finally be safe, surrounded by those she’d loved and lost.

                But what did that mean for him?

                The answer had been entirely obscure until he found himself standing outside of her house, staring into the open kitchen window. Bustling around the room, divine scents pouring from the opening. Seeing her entirely clean, grime completely scrubbed away, was like seeing an angel. Not like the asshole angels he knew, but something like that.

                He’d been in her home before, of course, after she’d given her account of living through the apocalypse and everything had settled a bit. Every time he was there, it struck him just how different they were, how his feelings shouldn’t be there, and how they almost certainly weren’t reciprocated. At this point she’d seen him, calling his name from the house. When he didn’t respond, she came out to him, rushing towards him in light jeans and a t-shirt he’d stretched incredibly when she’d given it to him to wear when he stayed for a few days. Before he’d completely realized she was there, she was in his arms, wrapping her own around his waist.

                Holding his ground against the weight of her, he chuckled lowly at her excitement. Slipping his armored arms around her, he lifted her up a good foot from the ground, pressing his covered face into her neck.

                “I missed you, big guy.”

                “Of course you would, how could you _not_?”

                She scoffed at his response, throwing her head back as she laughed. Strife smiled at the sound, carrying her forward and back inside of her home. At first, he was immensely shocked at how high her ceilings were, and she explained she’d intentionally searched for somewhere he’d be comfortable in. His heart had fluttered uncomfortably when she said this. She’d _expected_ him to visit, _wanted_ him to come see her.

                Setting her down cautiously, she grinned at him before turning back to the oven. Strife sat in one of her chairs, cringing at the slight creak it made when he settled his weight. Every time he expected it to crumble beneath his weight, and every time he was relieved when it remained intact. It wasn’t like he needed any further proof of his destructive nature. He removed his helmet, laying it on the table and running his fingers through his stiff hair.

                “Want some pie? It’ll be done soon. It’s apple.”

                Her voice was full of enthusiasm, obviously proud of her work. He almost couldn’t meet her warm (E/C) gaze, staring directly at him with an affection he hadn’t wished to know until they’d found each other. Now was the moment, after returning from yet another mission from the damned Council that wished them apart. If he never said anything, her hundred years on earth would pass by in the blink of his vibrant eye.

                “I’m not exactly here for pie, bright eyes,” he started, standing. The change in her expression was so quick, he was almost frightened by it. She was worried, afraid something was wrong.

                “What happened?” Her voice was strong, but he heard the uneasiness beneath it. Walking to her, he caged her against her counter with his arms, leaning down to her level. His long nose brushed against the tip of hers, fully facing her. Her concerned eyes, the curve of her slightly parted lips, the rosy hue of her cheeks spreading across her nose. The scent of apples and her shampoo infiltrated his senses, and it was almost unbearable that he still had to confess and couldn’t simply attack her mouth with his.

                “You.” He whispered. “You happened. I was _fine_ , used to being on my own, not giving a _damn_ about what anyone thought of me. Didn’t have to, didn’t _want_ to. Answered to the Council, maintained the balance without batting an eye. No thinking required, right?”

                She remained statuesque, unblinking.

                “But then I bumped into you, and you made me _think_. Forced me to sit down and take a good look at myself, and I realized I didn’t really _like_ what I saw. And then I realized I wanted _you_ to like what you saw. When you seemed like you did, it made me want to keep going. Made me want to do something _good_.”

                Every subtle or not-so-subtle flirt he’d ever attempted with her had been met with her own, and it encouraged him more. Now was he moment of truth, to see how true her reactions had been, or if they’d been meaningless on her part.

                “I… just want to know I’m not losing it. That there _was_ something you liked, I guess.”

                When she didn’t immediately respond, he sighed. He should’ve known. Should’ve expected that he wouldn’t ever be good enough for her, something he’d known all along. Pulling slowly from her, he didn’t try to hide the hurt in his voice.

                “I get it.”

                A hand on his chest kept him from turning from her. Tears threatened to drip as she watched him, a small smile on her lips.

                “ _Of course, I like you_ , Strife. I just… never thought you’d feel that way about a human. About me.”

                “Kiddo…” he whispered, leaning back down to meet her halfway. (Y/N) stood on her tiptoes, reaching her arms around his neck as he rested his hands on her hips and back. Her mouth was every bit as soft as he’d expected it to be, kissing her gently with his larger one. She tasted of mint, mint and the fresh crispness of a cool dawn morning. Every minute he spent in her embrace, tasting her, was a minute spent in              a place even better than Heaven.

                A shrill beep interrupted the haze the pair had found themselves in. (Y/N) leapt away from him, crying out. “My pie!”

                Strife couldn’t fight the enormous laugh that escaped his mouth. He had a purpose, a reason. A girl worth fighting for.       

_That trying not to love you, only went so far_  
_Trying not to need you, was tearing me apart_  
_Now I see the silver lining, of what we're fighting for_  
_And if we just keep on trying, we could be much more_  
_'Cause trying not to love you_  
_Oh, yeah, trying not to love you_  
_Only makes me love you more_  
_Only makes me love you more_


End file.
